


where would the moon get its light but from the sun?

by rosenisce



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: (I guess?) - Freeform, Angst, Fluff, look that scene got to me okay, n e ways here have this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosenisce/pseuds/rosenisce
Summary: Then, after a moment of disorientation, like I'd been flipped upside-down, I realized she wasn't talking about me losing someone. She was talking about Artemis—Diana. Was she suggesting that my sister missed me, even grieved for me as Thalia grieved for Jason?alt. Artemis mourns Apollo's punishment from afar.
Relationships: Apollo & Artemis (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93





	where would the moon get its light but from the sun?

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on tumblr for octoaber 2020, but i'm posting it here now because i'm a dumbass

The full moon shone over the city, washing the streets in a faded white light. It was generally quiet that night, but as the old man swept the leaves off his lawn and into the dustbin, he couldn’t help but notice the brilliant white orb quiver the slightest. He shrugged it off, thinking that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Up in the moon chariot pulled by the reindeer, Artemis sat at the reins, her face stoic as ever, however marked with the signs of repressed emotion. Her silver tunic was wrapped around her small frame, and her dark hair fluttered in the breeze where it seemed to merge with the void of the night sky.

“Curse that idiot.” she muttered under her breath, the words carried away and taken to the winds.

The goddess’ eyes were unfocused, silently staring ahead at the several mist images in front of her. And then, a single tear trailing down from her left eye and down to her jawline, as she swipes her hand across the images, and her knees give away to anguish and fear. It was all she could do to keep her hands on the reins. She couldn’t mess up in the middle of the night, no matter what.

Pain washed everything in red. With no outlet to let go to, all the feeling and sorrow crashed into her inner walls as reminiscences of every single time she snitched on him or denied him a favor played over and over in her brain, and the way she failed—failed to protect little brother from Zeus’ wrath, and to see him tortured again and again on this hopeless quest—and her forced to watch all of it, was too much.

She tries to convince herself that it was for his own good, that maybe his time as mortal might relax his ego for a while. But she can’t say that either; she was an immortal herself, one that cheated her way out of her father’s wrath and let it all focus on Apollo. It’s like a mantra repeating inside her head, but it does no effect to convince her that the quest would only resolve in more demigod blood spilled.

And once again a force hit her head like a sledgehammer, and from the silver designs of her chariot she could see her appearance flicker between Diana and Artemis. The other Olympians had gotten quite proficient at balancing their identities between Greek and Roman—not her, though. She knew the sensation all too well, having experienced it quite a lot whenever she got too worried—which was to say, a lot of times ever since Zeus yoinked away Apollo’s immortality.

It was a while before she had finally settled back into the form of Artemis. She was quite closer to her twin during the Greek days; her Roman form had taken an identity of her own. While they used to have twin temples in their Greek personas, the Romans had worshipped them separately. And right now she was getting heartsick of waiting, seeing from a distance, watching.

She nudged herself, forcing her to keep her hands steady on the reins, or else it would be either an endless night or the moon would set a few hours early. A few months ago Artemis would have laughed in your face if you told her that watching the events on Earth unfold and being forcibly forbidden to make contact with Apollo would cause her so much anguish, but alas, here she was. 

When one came to think of it, she would rather have herself live as a hermit on the holy land of their birthplace, Delos, rather than be forced to watch Apollo suffer as a mortal. Seeing her brother’s hardships like it was some kind of movie hurt, but much unlike a movie she would be seeing those mist images well and fresh in her mind, replayed over and over, and over, again.

But who was she to complain about watching from a distance, to mourn the lives that were and would be lost? She wasn’t a mortal like him, she would be just as bad as the other Olympians were.

She looked over the earth, and a familiar building came in view. Being a goddess had some of its benefits, such as amplified sight when one needed it. Artemis sent a silent thanks to Hemithea and Josephine for taking care of him, and Thalia, and Britomartis, even if Apollo would have fallen in another trap net.

The goddess exhaled and forced herself to focus her wisps of moonlight ahead of her, etched by the wheels of the moon for millions of years, taking the same, steady path through the sky.

She’s going to see him again… had to have faith in her little brother. He’s never given up on anything, anyone, and so don’t he dare start now.

* * *

She choked down a sob of happiness and relief and plastered a smile on her face with surprising ease. “Took you long enough.”

It was the only thing that she could say before Apollo rose and practically hug-slammed her. With his head buried in her shoulder, both of them sobbing, Artemis was content to be annoyed once again by her brother.


End file.
